


Aft Gang Agley

by micehell



Category: Leverage
Genre: M/M, Some drama and humor, definitely pornish in places (though not as much as the summary would suggest)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-01
Updated: 2008-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time to implement Plan XXX</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aft Gang Agley

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after the pilot aired, but before the series started, so by all means don't expect it to match perfectly to the whole run of the series. ;)

**20 lbs of crazy in a 5 lb bag**

Alec Hardison loved women. They were sometimes soft and snuggly, and sometimes hard and looking to kick his ass, but they were always fun. Put one in a Princess Leia slave girl outfit and hand them a lightsaber? That right there was love.

But Alec Hardison also loved playing it safe (needed to, really), and with the way things were, there weren't a lot of options for that anymore. When it had just been him alone, he could afford to troll out every once and a while and cyber hunt himself a Leia or two who were only after two things -- money and sex. Or, if he was lucky, sex and money. But he didn't fly solo anymore, and if his cyber hunt turned rogue, he wasn't the only droid someone would be looking for.

Which, really, mainly left him his teammates as potential. But as much as Alec loved women, and as much as he'd pay to see either Parker or Sophie in the Leia costume, there were limits to how far he was willing to go. After all, Eliot had been right about Parker. She was definitely twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag, cute as that bag might be. And Sophie? Well, she had a special magic, kind of like her on-off acting skill. One that turned a bullet wound scar into an ownership brand. Alec had already seen her move in to reinforce her claim on Nate when Eliot had tried his _Doctor is in, five cents, please_ moves on him. And whereas Alec had height and weight on the woman, he wasn't betting on her _just_ cutting him cold if he tried to mack on her.

Which might have meant it was pretty much hopeless, except for two things. One, while Alec Hardison loved the ladies, his scale swung both ways, thank you kindly, Dr. Kinsey. Which led to: Two, since he wasn't flying solo anymore, maybe he should fly Solo instead.

**I like Plan M**

Okay, so Eliot was an asshole, and all, but as much as he'd never admit it, Alec had found the man's speed… impressive. Like Han on the quick draw and with the cocky attitude to match. And the glasses, both the wire frames and the black dorkers (especially combined with the fake Klingon, which had been hot even if it had been wrong) had that whole geekgasm factor working for him. So, yeah, Eliot was definitely doable.

The only problem he really had with the idea was how Eliot would react when Alec put the holla on him. It wasn't that he doubted that Eliot was one of the boys. Not with the way he stayed all wary and suspicious of Parker and Sophie, but was willing to pony up with the chick flick moment with Nate. And certainly not with the way he got all riled up by Alec. No, the thing that had Alec nervous was whether Eliot would go with the moment, or try to play macho prick and tough it out.

Pro, he didn't seem to be particularly quick to hit. Con, once he started to hit, he was fucking quick about it.

Pro, he had stopped and helped when Alec had tripped trying to get out of the warehouse. Con, he had been far too enamored of Plan M.

Pro, he had finally stopped mouthing off about working alone. Con, he was still keeping his distance from Alec.

Of course that last might be a good sign, and Alec was nothing if not willing to try anything once, especially if it got him some action. And all things considered, if it came down to a choice between having a _mostly_ safe, attractive fuck buddy versus rarely having sex at all, well, Alec guessed that Nate wasn't the only man who could plan.

Time to implement Plan XXX.

**That's what I do.**

The first iteration of Plan XXX turned out to be a total failure. Alec had to admit that IMing Eliot under the screen name Stud!chorghmaHvagh was probably not his best idea. The bastard not only blocked it, he probably didn't even have geek cred enough to appreciate it.

Plan XXX 1.2 didn't turn out as expected, either. His email addy of BigOne@mightystuds.com apparently triggered Eliot's spam blocker. Which wouldn't have been so bad, except Eliot apparently took spam seriously. Instead of just deleting it like a sane person would have, he spoofed the address on his own spam mailing, getting both the Alec's addy and the IP blocked by a lot of major sites. Alec had been horrified enough over one of his addys being associated with Precious Moments figurines, but that hadn't been anything compared to the fact that he actually had responses to the damn thing.

And, damn it, the fact that Eliot knew how to spoof in the first place was making Alec horny as hell.

Plan XXX 1.3 was likely to be the biggest disaster yet, but Alec was getting a little desperate, and Eliot was wearing the glasses again, and while there really was a reason that Alec liked to do the initial negotiation digitally, it was still time to move from software implementation to a hardware solution.

Except.

Except that it wasn't something Alec had much experience with. Not successful experience, anyway. Oh, he'd tried it on at the club scene with women a time or two, but he'd never really worried about the fact they might slap him. Mostly chicks were far more forgiving than men about being hit on, not to mention that mostly chicks didn't have the upper body strength to really make it count. And more importantly, they didn't actually know him, which limited the awkwardness a lot.

With men, now, all of Alec's experience came from bars and the Y, where once you learned the signals, it was just like ordering at BK. _I'll take the #5 meal combo, and make that King size_. And while the guys didn't know him, either, the quick order option, no muss no fuss, limited the awkwardness, like, geometrically. Which is why it sucked to be trying this with Eliot. Because while Alec didn't _think_ he would mess things (or Alec) up over a little spit game, he also couldn't read any of Eliot's signals, and he hated working without a map.

And, really, was there any smooth way to get from, "Hey," to, "So, you want to hook up?" He might have googled it, just to see if there was anything helpful online, but Nate was working on his computer (after Alec had extracted a blood oath about not fucking it up). And Sophie was in the middle of her newest attempt to make Parker see the value of shoe shopping, so, really, he wasn't going to get a much better time to see. Ignoring the way he felt like a fucking 13-year-old girl about to talk to her first major crush, he instead leaned casually against his pool table, and started with, "Hey."

Eliot didn't actually stop his game of _bounce the ball against the side of the table as many times as you can without it going in a pocket_ (something he seemed to be enamored of anytime he got bored), but he did grunt some kind of greeting in return.

Which left Alec with trying to figure out what his next line was, since he was pretty sure that going with, "So, you want to hook up?", might just get him the wrong kind of hook.

But Eliot, always the king of doing things really fast, cut right to the chase. "Have you been hitting on me?

And now Alec felt like that same fucking 13-year-old after she'd been caught slipping stupid love notes in a guy's locker, but what could he say? "Um, maybe?"

Eliot snorted, shaking his head. "Why the fuck didn't you just say so. Do you know how much work I had to put in on that spam, man?"

Alec would have responded, and it would have been something devastating to Eliot's obviously fragile ego, he just knew it, but it was hard to get sound out when moving at supersonic speeds, and Eliot had him hustled into the bedroom so fast he doubted if any of the others had even seen them go.

When he was finally moving at normal speeds again, his bedroom wall up against his back, Alec took the opportunity to say, "Huh?" Seeing as it really summed up what he was feeling at the moment.

But Eliot just smiled that smug bastard grin of his, and said, "Now this is what I do."

**Somebody kiss this man so I don't have to**

The kiss wasn't anything like Alec might have expected it to be. For one thing, he hadn't really expected a kiss, so that kind of made it a surprise right there. For another, he'd assumed (and he could only think he had every reason to do so), that Eliot would be all about the speed even in this.

But the kiss was slow. Slow to start, with Eliot's face close to his, his eyes almost crossing as he studied Alec's lips, his own breath blowing warm against them. Slow to deepen, just the lightest brush of flesh on flesh, a tease and a promise at the same time. Slow to end, Eliot pulling his head down to meet him, angling for breath that was coming faster for both of them, lips and tongue moist and hot, sliding deep inside, a prelude.

Alec was cursing the 13-year-old (the one that wrote bad poetry in her diary, with lots of references to soulmates and one true loves) that had obviously taken over his brain, when the real Eliot finally showed up. Before he could even register the change, or decide if it was good one or not, Eliot pulled back from the kiss, pulling off his own shirt and starting on Alec's while kicking off his shoes.

When Alec just stood there, still not quite out of the "Huh" phase, Eliot rolled his eyes, and said, "Hardison. You with me here? Much easier to do this without pants in the way." He had his off before Alec had even finished toeing off one of his sneakers.

Impatient, he pushed Alec back to the bed, flipping his remaining shoe off, not even bothering to see where it landed before he was tugging Alec's pants and shorts down, all expedience and Eliot, and kind of fucking hot with it, too.

Not that Alec was going to complain, anyway, not when those callused hands felt so good against his very hard dick. And certainly not when Eliot pushed up beside him, surprisingly careful, adding his own dick to the handful, and doing a good job of trying to jack them both dry in record time.

Alec was a little embarrassed over how short a time that record turned out to be before he came, unable to resist the long-missed feel of a hard body next to him, and a hand on his dick that wasn't his. But he was young, and even by the time Eliot leaned back on the bed, still leisurely pumping his own dick, just the sight of him had Alec half-way to hard again.

But Eliot was in no hurry this time, apparently far more focused on confusing the hell out of Alec than screwing him. Or blowing him, really, though he'd at least made a good start on that to go along with the confusion. First the slow kiss, then the lightning speed hand job, and now sucking Alec's dick down like it was an all-day sucker and he planned to make it live up to its name. No macho hesitation about who was going to do who, no fake disclaimers about virginity, just lips and tongue working Alec's dick like they had been made for it.

Alec decided to be magnanimous and let the confusion go in favor of the best blow job he'd ever had. The only problem with it was the he was on his way to monumentally embarrassing himself (because, dude, it was one thing to come quick, but two times in under ten minutes? Eliot's ego didn't need that kind of ammo), and he was hard pressed to think of something that would hold things back. Maggots, Celine Dion, Windows ME, but nothing was doing the trick, not with Eliot's hands all over him, reading Alec like Braille. Not with Eliot's hair and back clutched tightly in Alec's hands, holding him _right fucking there_ , and the only thing that kept Alec from spilling into that near-perfect mouth right then and there were the scars he felt, smooth beneath his fingers.

Okay, Alec was channeling the 13-year-old still, but that wasn't really it. He'd seen scars before, had a couple himself, and it wasn't like he didn't know someone like Eliot was bound to have some. But it wasn't the long thin scar that was probably from a knife that bothered him, nor the tight pucker of what had probably been a bullet wound, and not that long ago. It was the faint ones, the ones that were barely there anymore, smoothed down by time, that were giving him the mini-freak.

That was it, really, that right there; it was the time. Too old to have been because of Eliot's job. Too many to be anything but bad. And it made Alec squirm even thinking of it, because he didn't want to see Eliot as anything but a guy he worked with, a guy he argued with, a guy who was still working his dick like the best of whores. It messed the whole thing up if he thought of Eliot as human. Vulnerable. Like Alec in any way.

And how stupid was that? It wasn't like he couldn't have figured out that no one said to themselves as a kid, _I want to be the fastest son of a bitch there is so that no one can even lay a hand on me_. At least not without a reason. No more than Alec would have dreamed of living in a huge apartment, with lots of clean lines and few things that meant anything, and only the computer for company.

Not without a reason.

But as much as the insight bothered Alec, and as much as the stupid 13-year-old wanted to talk about it, Alec was a 23-year-old guy, with 23-year-old guy hormones, and when Eliot started rubbing himself off against Alec's leg, not letting up on the suction at all, that was all she wrote.

The only insight he was capable of afterward, breath still short, and Eliot heavy and damp across his leg, was _Hell, yes_.

It wasn't until Eliot was up and dressed again, looking like he'd never even thought about blowing the hell out of Alec, his favorite refrain of, "One time only," falling from his still-puffy lips, that Alec's brain finally engaged again.

Because, yeah, he'd just been looking for a fuck buddy, and maybe, once upon a time, once would have been enough. And he could probably figure some way to find safe-ish sex, even with the restraints circumstances and his own neuroses put on him. Given time, anyway. He was a genius after all. But that was then, and this was now, and finding out that there was a human underneath all of that attitude… well, all Alec knew was that _none_ of them were flying solo anymore.

So fuck the 13-year-old, and fuck Eliot's party line, too, because if there was one thing Alec Hardison loved more than women, more than men, hell, even more than Eliot's mouth, it was a challenge.

**Leverage**

The next day he sent an email to Eliot's new account, the one he'd set up so the bastard couldn't spam block him. All that was in it was a picture of a gauntlet and a countdown clock. Plan XXX 2.0 was now in session.

/story


End file.
